


One after another.

by TheSadGreasyChild (orphan_account)



Category: MLAndersen0, Slender Man Mythos, Stan Frederick, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, Sad men...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSadGreasyChild
Summary: After Stan finally killed Connor, and was turned into a corruptelam. He still had work to do.
Kudos: 7





	One after another.

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of Stan Frederick fics is depressing,,, so, of course, I had to write one.

Stan's hands slide over the shattered screen of his phone, hovering over the call button.

'Noah Maxwell' was the contact number, a man he hadn't spoken to in a long while and, their relationship was... rocky.

After a few minutes of him staring at the screen he pressed the button.

The sound of ringing continued for a few moments, before a tired voice answered.

"Stan. Why the fuck are you calling me?" Noah answered sharply, agitation in his voice.

"Hey man... How are you doing?" Stan sighed, ignoring the other man's words.

The rugged man paused for a moment before answering. "You already know. It's not like you leave me alone."

The tired corruptelam shook his head, pacing nervously. "Noah... I know we haven't gotten along in the past and, that's totally my fault. We are both going through something right now and, I just wanted to call and see if you were okay. It's fine if you don't wanna talk to me but... Please, I'm sorry." He whispered into the phone, eyes teary.

Noah furrowed his brows, scoffing. "Goodnight, Stan." He stated, before hanging up the phone, and setting it back down.

Stan pulled the phone down from his ear, looking at the dark screen. It was worth a try.

He sat down on the stiff hotel bed, putting his face in his hands. He had a few more phone calls to make and, it was what, 8 pm? 

He had more work to do.


End file.
